


A new kind of prank war

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cliche, Crack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Prank Wars, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam decides to up the ante on their prank wars when he has to wake up to the sounds of Dean masturbating one too many nights. Of course then Dean violates the sanctity of shower time. And, well, things just escalate from there. Sam learns some new things about his brother, may have accidentally gone too far on a prank, but he tries to make up for it and things wind up somewhere he did not expect. </p><p>(Set vaguely season one ish)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A new kind of prank war

Sam rolled his eyes at the smoke stained ceiling tiles above him, not that they were paying him any mind. He willed himself not to heave a frustrated sigh or flop around in his bed. It’s not like it would last more than a few minutes anyway.

He could hear the sheets rustling and the increasing hitch of breath in the bed next to him. The bed his brother was sleeping in. They’d been on the road a few months looking for Dad and this was the first night Sam was waking up to his brother masturbating. It was kinda miraculous actually, Dean masturbated a lot. Or, he did when they were younger.

Sam knows his brother spends his libido out with bar chicks as much as he can, but there’s a lot of libido to spend. He knows what extra long showers mean. And as good as Dean is – as they both are really – with masturbating quietly in the middle of the night, well they’re both really light sleepers too.

He can screw his eyes shut and count back from hundred a few nights, it’s fine, he’s gotten over the awkwardness. Totally.

But it starts happening with increasing frequency. And increasingly louder. Sam swears that Dean’s fucking with him. Except that there’s no cocky smirks in the mornings or tauntings about how well he slept. So maybe it’s all in Sam’s head.

Sam doesn’t care if it’s all in his head because it’s really starting to get on his nerves. He vaguely considers that most normal people would just casually mention it, maybe write a passive aggressive note, or leave subtle hints that there was an issue. But him and Dean are pretty fucking far from normal. And it’s a golden opportunity to reciprocate the pranks Dean’s been playing lately like they’re right back where they were five years ago.

So Sam plots, and he sneaks his laptop under the blankets with him for the next few nights in the next few shitty motels. He sleeps with it right by his hip. Waiting. Page bookmarked. Volume on mute. Power full.

He doesn’t have to do this more than three nights because Dean is back at it and Sam knows his brother can’t possibly of mistaken him for falling asleep yet. Shit’s sake it hasn’t even been a half an hour since they flicked out the lights.

Sam curls his fingers around his laptop and furtively scoots under the thick comforter so he can crack it open and turn it on without the light glaring into the room. He waits. Like a predator stalking it’s prey. It might be a little creepy that he knows Dean’s masturbation sounds, but he’s heard it way too much. He times it perfectly, waits for his brother to start breathing heavier, hears a little bed squeak when he has to shift just so, hears the sheets snick with the fast movement of a hand. Sam smiles under his sheets, presses play at the perfect point of the video and turns off mute so the speakers blare out, tossing his bed sheets aside as Michael Jackson’s high pitched voice squawks out _‘Just Beat It!’_

The bed next to him groans with the sudden snap of the old box springs and a strangled groan that turns into a string of livid curses.

_‘Don’t wanna be a boy you wanna be a man!’_

“Fucking swear to christ Sammy!”

_‘Just beat it!’_

Sam is up and out of his bed in an instant, wearing his boxers and a tee he has the distinct advantage over Dean, who stumbles and falls out of his bed with his boxers around his ankles a still very much unsatisfied erection slapping up against his stomach as he tilts forward, blankets clinging to his legs, and falls face first on the floor.

_‘Showin how funky strong is your fight’_

Sam is out the door, Michael Jackson still blaring behind him, laughing so hard he can feel tears pricking the corner of his eyes, running around the concrete walk of the motel bare footed. A woman came out of her room dressed in gaudy tight clothes and strappy heels side eyeing with no small amount of suspicion. Sam nods at her as he passes and tucks himself against the rough brick of the building once he turns the corner.

Bent doubled over with his hands braced on his knees, Sam thinks it’s been a long time since he laughed so hard he was afraid he might piss himself.

-

The next few days pass easily enough. Sam knows the retaliation will be coming, but he does not know when, and he does not know how.

When he had gotten back in the motel after his little prank, the laptop was shut and set on the table, and Dean was pretending to be asleep. He didn’t say anything the next morning. Or the next few days.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Sam was a little guarded, a little tense around his brother. It was only natural. You could never quite gauge Dean’s moods. But when he locked himself in the bathroom intent on a nice long shower to ease his sore muscles after digging up a corpse, he let his wariness drop. See, for two boys growing up in close quarters, cramped, sharing what little they had, always in each other’s face, the shower was kind of a no go spot. Sure they might mess with each other’s hygiene items every now and then – Sam would never live down the Nair hair – but there was no active interference with showers. As long as you were careful the shower was safe.

Sam sniffed his shampoo and soap bottles. Nothing was out of the ordinary. He took his time cleaning up, scraping grave dirt out from under his fingernails, washing his hair twice before putting conditioner in. Hunching underneath the shower head that was way too low for him, he let the water beat down on his broad shoulders and relaxed. The hot water and swirling steam around him had him lulled into a nice complacency, cock hanging heavy between his legs and starting to grow interested in a little one on one time with his right hand.

Sam palmed himself and ran through his spank bank. A cute gas station clerk a few states ago named Tim who had eyes green as summer grass. A slender librarian last week that had a smattering of freckles over his nose. A gruff cop last town back who had broad shoulders and short brown hair that was streaked with a little dirty blond. Oh yeah, that was some good material, nothing like a guy in uniform with a pair of handcuffs.

Wrapping a broad calloused hand around himself, he leaned back against the slick pastel green tiles, wiping stray water from his eyes with a free hand before it moved lower to cup his balls while he got closer, closer. Sam grunted when he felt it tensing in his stomach but he was in the shower and a little bit of noise was allowed then.

It hit him like being thrown through a fucking window. Cold, cold, shit fuck cold! He almost slipped and snapped his neck as he jerked back from the now ice cold spray like a fucking cat and wrestled with the shower curtain trying to get away. His poor dick was at a confused state of half mast as he grabbed a towel and flung the door open, not even bothering to wrap it around his waist. He just held it bunched in front of himself, dripping water from his shaggy messed up hair and shivering.

Dean was doubled over by the kitchenette sink that was running water hot enough to steam out of the tap.

“You asshole!”

He only got a fit of giggles in response, Dean’s face bright red and gasping for air.

“The shower is sacred man!”

Dean literally laughed so hard he fell on his ass.

Sam huffed indignantly and slammed the bathroom door shut. Oh his brother was so in for it. No holds barred, this was war.

-

The thing about Sam was, he could be patient. Really, really patient. He could be sneaky. And he liked doing it. The longer the wait, the sweeter the pay off in fact. So he hatched a plot to get back at Dean. Not only would it interrupt his masturbation time it would be mildly painful and hopefully embarrassing as well.

Ever since this new brand of pranking came into play, Dean was being secretive about his masturbating. Which would normally be really good. But it was too late for that. Most likely he had just moved all his wank sessions to the shower. The door was locked a lot more. It might be weird but they usually didn’t lock the door when the showered. Call it paranoia or call it convenience, they had no problem with someone pissing while they showered as long as the toilet wasn’t flushed, and who knew if a vengeful spirit of some dead hooker buried under the motel might come out of the shower head. So yeah the door wasn’t usually locked and when it was it meant something. Not that they couldn’t pick it under a minute but they never did.

So Dean was masturbating more in the shower now. And Sam started to notice something interesting. He was the only one that used conditioner. Dean had short hair, he didn’t need to. But every now and then Sam would notice a previously unused bottle of motel conditioner missing contents. He should be the only one using it. Now, showers were usually a perfect place to masturbate and you didn’t need anything else, but for those longer sessions a little extra slick was kinda nice. Sam got it. He did it too.

His plan was so evil it made him cackle a little every time he emptied out the contents of the conditioner bottles and replaced them with something else. He kept the tube of Icy Hot stashed in the bottom of his duffel and would sneak it out to squeeze into the conditioner bottles every few motels or so. Honestly, if Dean fell for it, Sam figured it was kinda his own fault because the smell should give this stuff away. Totally.

Of course the first time Sam did it, Dean took a normal shower. The bathroom had ugly cracked pink tiles and Dean was only in there for ten minutes, coming back out whistling with the towel wrapped around his waist.

The next motel had a plastic shower surround thing, and Dean was only in there twelve minutes.

The motel after that had some funky orange patterned tiles that were mildewy and covered in a hazy film. Ew. Sam hoped Dean was not masturbating in there but he swapped out the conditioner anyway. Nine minute shower.

One motel later, the bathroom was pretty nice actually, good shower pressure, hot water, blue tiles around the tub and white drywall in the rest. A few tiles were missing but it was decent. Sam was practically jittering with excitement, he knew this was the one, he would get Dean this time, he could feel it.

His brother was in the shower longer than ten minutes. Longer than fifteen minutes. Sam had the television on like he usually did when Dean showered, but it was turned down low, and he had slowly scooted his chair back closer towards the door of the bathroom as the minute mark approached twenty.

“Fuck!”

Sam snorted on a laugh and smiled wider.

“Holyfuckingshitballsgodfuckingdammitsonofabitch!”

Sam burst out in obnoxious cackling.

“SAMMY I FUCKING SWEAR WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Oh, wow, ok that sounded really angry. He turned off the tv. The sound of water in the bathroom turned from shower to the heavier plunk of the lower faucet filling the tub.

“Relax Dean, it’s just a little Icy Hot, wash it off and it’ll go away in like, a few minutes tops.”

“Oh shit oh shit OH SHIT.”

“Don’t be such a baby!”

Ok so it totally burned, which was the point, but Sam was not that much of a sadist, he had actually tested just the teensiest dab on the sensitive skin of his balls and yeah it stung but after like a minute it was gone.

“DUDE! It’s not – I can’t – FUCK – I can’t just wash it off!!!”

Sam quirked his head, starting to get a little worried at the panic in his brother’s voice.

“Huh? Whad’ya mean?”

“It’s fucking INSIDE of me ok, I was fingering myself!”

Oh.

Oh Shit!

Oh that was majorly not part of the plan.

“Oh shit Dean, I didn’t, um, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I swear to God Sammy! I am going to kill you! Then I’m going to learn necromancy! And I’m going to raise you from the dead so I can kill you again!”

Sam was paralyzed. There was frantic splashing and a litany of cursing that tapered off into whimpering from the other side of the door. He contemplated picking the lock and trying to help his brother, but yeah, the whole death threat thing was unappealing. As a matter of fact, he probably shouldn’t be in the room when Dean came back out.

As he was trying to get his limbs to start working he barely heard Dean saying ‘fuck this burns worse than the clap.’

Yeah he was so out of there.

Grabbing his wallet and scurrying out the door, Sam decided he should come back with offerings so he did not end up maimed in his sleep.

He truly did not anticipate his brother slicking up his fingers with ‘conditioner’ and sticking them in his ass. That, that was kind of a revelation. Sam felt like he maybe should have seen it coming but hindsight was everything. Dean had a libido that never turned off and did not seem too picky about his bed fellows. But, wow, Sam wondered if he was like really bi or just a bit flexible. He shouldn’t be thinking about his brother’s sexual preferences though.

Not daring to take the Impala after an epic prank gone wrong, he spent several hours walking through the small town gathering items like if he had the magic set he could complete his quest and not die by his brother’s hands.

Pushing the motel door open slowly with a knock, Sam eased in, the room dimly lit with one lamp at the bedside table turned on but no over head lights.

Dean was sitting at the table stripping and cleaning his gun.

Sam came up to him like he was a wild animal, setting his offerings on the table in front of him.

“I, uh, I brought back some dinner. Burgers and fries, pie, oh man this diner makes awesome pies they had like some award plaques on the walls for it. Oh and cold beer, and some whiskey too.”

Sam plucked the items out of the bags one by one and set them on the table in front of his brother hoping to appease him. Dean rolled his neck, finished cleaning his gun while Sam remained standing and tense, re-assembled the weapon, set it aside – Sam deflated a little and that- and pulled the food closer, sniffing it.

Sam dared to sit down, perched on the edge of his chair.

“Um, so....”

“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to eat. I’m getting shit faced. And we’re going to forget this ever happened.”

“I am totally down for that.”

Sam stood up hastily and went to the kitchenette cupboard where a few chipped mugs were, bringing them back for the whiskey but Dean already had it open and a few inches were gone. Sam sat back down, pouring himself a little, sliding a burger over.

Dean was poking morosely at his pie and shifting uncomfortably. Sam noticed his eyes were a little red rimmed. Damn.

“You’re not going to kill me in my sleep are you?”

“No.”

“Maim me in my sleep?”

“No.”

“Cut all my hair off in my sleep?’

“Sam, I am not going to do anything to you in your sleep.”

That should be a relief, but then Dean looked up at him with a totally calm face. Sam blanched, and may have whimpered a little.

-

Sam figured that life was not worth living if he was constantly on edge for what might be around the corner. Ok, so what he did was pretty bad, but he did try to make up for it, and had been for the past few weeks. Doing extra research, taking Dean’s share of digging, doing laundry solo, keeping beer and pie well stocked.

If he was a dead man walking he was going to enjoy the last of his days.

It was another shower. Lots of hot water, plain white tiles marbled with a weird goldish color. Sam hadn’t masturbated in a few days, he was kinda getting nervous anytime he wanted to touch his dick. Oddly enough, sometimes the extra bit of excitement made his dick twitch a little harder. He didn’t really want to think about that. But it was waving around in front of him proudly at the moment, bobbing up against his stomach every now and then as if to say, ‘hey, you haven’t forgotten about me have you?’ Of course he hadn’t. Sam willed himself to relax, touched himself lightly, just smoothing the flat of his hand down the length without really curling his fingers around it’s girth. He started sifting through his spank bank.

Tan shoulders and the swoop of a clavicle dipping down to a notch where a bronze amulet lay at the end of a black string. Whoa hey no. Try again. Strong thighs gripping around his waist and a fit waist rolling with his thrusts in the small space of sticky vinyl seats and oh goddamit was he thinking about the Impala now too. Shit. One more go. Plush lips spit slick wrapped around his cock and thick light brown eyelashes fluttering as dilated sin green eyes looked up at him – fuck.

He was supposed to be over this. He hadn’t thought about Dean like that since he was a teenager, before he left for Stanford, before, before everything. He told himself he wasn’t sick he was just a horny teenager with one constant thing in his life that looked at him like he wasn’t some poor dirty white piece of trash, that touched him with genuine care and warmth. Fuck he thought he just liked Dean when he was younger because his brother was always there, young and fit and lithe and even when he was sixteen he had that cocky grin and easy swagger to him. Sam thought when he went to college and discovered he wasn’t really gay, he liked girls too, at least girls that had dynamic personality and a smile that could light up a room, he thought he’d get over. Discover what else was out there. Grow up.

Yeah no, he was twenty three now and jerking off in the shower thinking about Dean fingering himself. Wondering if Dean would be louder than a quiet gasp if Sam was the one pulling the noises out of him. Thinking about the space in between his bow legs.

Sam was so wrapped up in his private fantasies and the resurgence of that dirty bad ‘no’ that always felt so right he didn’t hear someone else just past the shower curtain. Choking down a groan he finished into the bathtub, wiping stray jizz off the tiles and rinsing himself off. Turning the tap and flinging the curtain back he found a very red faced Dean frozen in front of the shower with a hand raised partway, white styrofoam cup gripped tight. As soon as Sam pushed the curtain back Dean’s mouth fell open and his eyes darted around, like he was about to make a run for it.

Sam had locked the door this time, of course. That meant Dean picked it. And was now physically encroaching on the sanctity of shower time, not just turning a tap from the other room or switching out the contents of bottles. What the hell was in that cup anyway.

“Dude what the hell.”

Sam was stark naked, the towel hanging on the rack that Dean was currently blocking. His cock was still thick and just starting to flag, water dripping down his back from hair pushed along the curve of his skull.

Reaching out he grabbed the styrofoam cup, peeling off a lid, face scrunching in horror as he slammed the lid back on and shoved it back into Dean’s grasp. Oh man, they were, god there were so many, white little squirming, oh, god, just, ew.

“Seriously man, fucking maggots, you were going to pour maggots on me in the shower?”

Dean blinked a few times, twisting to fling the cup into the trash, grabbing the towel and throwing it at Sam.

“I, uh, maybe.”

Dean was pointedly not looking him in the eye. Sam caught the towel and wrapped it around his waist. Dean was being very un Dean like in his lack of vocal expression. Sam glanced at him up and down, from his boot covered feet to his freckle spattered nose. Oh, and oh, that was definitely the line of an erection in his jeans. Huh. The moment Sam’s gaze fixed on that and decided not to budge – much to his chagrin honestly, he wouldn’t mind looking but he didn’t want Dean to know that he was looking – his brother bolted out of the bathroom.

By the time Sam dried off and poked his head out, Dean was gone from the motel room.

-

Ok, so this was getting interesting. Sam, well he wasn’t quite too sure what he should make of it, but his dick definitely knew what it was interested in. He was not a neanderthal however and was more interested in thinking about this thoroughly first. You know, the whole incest thing. Kinda creepy. Well, by normal societal standards it was, and Sam felt like he should feel like it was. It didn’t actually feel that bad though. He had jerked off thinking about his brother, apparently his brother heard him jerking off and popped a stiffy. Oh and Dean liked to finger himself. Interesting.

Sam was still thinking about it a few motels down the way after an easy werewolf hunt. They both got a little banged up, bruised, but with a solid hunting pair a werewolf wasn’t too hard if you could figure out who it was.

He let Dean take the first shower, and sat at the small wooden motel table cleaning weapons while his brother was in there, not thinking about him naked and wet at all. Sam took the next shower, thought about a quick one, but he was tired and really sore. There was a broad purple bruise across his back spreading over his ribs and down his side, turning yellow around the edges, and he felt like going to bed more than anything else.

A quick five minute shower to rinse gore out of his hair and dirt off his hands and Sam was sitting back on a sad little chair at the sad little table in the drab brown motel room, soft white tee a little transparent for putting it on right after his shower, comfortable in blue plaid boxers.

Dean was sitting on one of the beds propped up against the wall, plain rust red colored blanket still tucked in at the sides. His shoes and socks were sitting next to the bed, his flannel overshirt tossed on top of a duffel, his jeans rumpled at the end of the bed. A faded black tee clung to his damp skin, boxers with little batman logos on it riding up his thighs. He had a skin mag spread open on his lap.

“Dude, seriously?”

Dean didn’t look up, just smirked, flipped the page, pushed one hand under the elastic waistband of his boxers. Sam continued to stare, he wasn’t going to be the one to break first. But then Dean just moved the glossy magazine aside and pulled his hard cock out, looking up straight into Sam’s eyes.

Sam licked his lips unconsciously, shifting forward in his seat, turning his chair so he was straight face to face with his brother. Another question was forming on his tongue that very much wanted something else on it when Dean interrupted him.

“You know, I was thinking about something Sammy.”

He slid his hand down the length of his erection, circling thumb and forefinger around the base so it stood up, foreskin pulling down as it swelled and the red tip coming out beaded with pre come.

“And I figured, hey, if we’re just going to keep pranking each other along these lines, that my safest bet is to masturbate with you in my line of sight.”

Thick fingers curled around Dean’s cock and stroked up and down the entire length slowly several pulls.

“Figured y’couldn’t sneak up on me that way.”

Sam had to make himself close his mouth and swallow, wide eyes starting to dry from not blinking, his own cock tenting up from his boxers and his fingers digging in to his thighs.

“You figure that’s a good bet, little brother?”

Sam thought he could make a decent retort, at least he could say a few words, but he kind of just whimpered. Oh god he was never going to live down that noise.

Well fuck Dean two could play at this game. Ok he totally wanted to actually fuck Dean, but yeah this was good too. He could do this. Leaning back in his chair and slinging his long legs in front of him Sam pushed his boxers down tapered hips so his cock sprung free and he let it twitch against his thigh as he pulled the thin tee up over his head. Chest bare, cock out, he started masturbating too.

Dean always had intense eyes, they could shift from a light candy glass green to deep moss green and every way in between and no matter what mood made them shift they were always intense. Sam wondered if he could will himself to come just from the way Dean was looking at him now. It made him want to shrivel up and shrink in on himself at the same time it made him want to pounce on his brother and push his thighs apart.

Sam wondered if this was another prank. Or maybe just a game. See who could last longer. He knew he wasn’t going to last much more with how fast his heart was beating, he could barely seem to get enough air past the clench in his throat and his whole body was flushed hot thrumming with nervous uncertainty.

He wasn’t even looking at his brother’s cock. He took a good look when Dean pulled it out, straight and thick and ruddy, but now, now he just couldn’t look away from Dean’s face and it was partly because Dean never looked away from his.

Teeth clenched and wet hair dripping over his shoulders as his arm muscles flexed with the fast pace he came sobbing Dean’s name and watching Dean bite his obscene fucking lips with his own face scrunched up in orgasm.

This was beyond pranks and games. Sam didn’t know what strange territory they had stumbled in to. He stammered an excuse to go wash up and when he came back out, Dean was under the covers on his stomach pointedly not saying anything.

-

So things were weird between them now. Hyper aware painfully tense kind of weird. It was like there was a rubber band between their bodies but in only got tighter the closer together they got, and he didn’t want to snap it. Every casual touch they used to give each other was stilted now, hovering in between brotherly affection and not so brotherly heat.

It was like this for a few weeks, town to town, hunt to hunt, motel to motel. No one spied on the other in the shower anymore, there were no more pranks, they didn’t say a word about it. Sam kinda tried to, but every time he went to open his mouth about the whole brother touching thing it was like Dean had a sixth sense for it and shut him down with more pressing matters, usually hunt related.

It was maddeningly frustrating. Sam figured they could probably let things settle and go back to what they were before, or they could push over the precipice and be something else. He wanted something else. He wanted more. And he thought it was a high probability that Dean did too but without actually talking about it he was left anxiously uncertain. It wasn’t like he was a mind reader or anything.

Another motel, the bathroom had fugly beige tiles with beiger geometric patterns that belonged to the seventies. Dean was being irritated and pissy, features set in perma scowl mode and he kept taunting Sam with half joking half insults. Sam couldn’t even remember what finally snapped the rubber band for him if you pressed him to try, but it did snap. One moment he was standing at the foot of his bed rifling through dirty clothes looking for clean boxers while he listened to Dean, pacing back and forth behind him. Then somehow he found himself pressing Dean against the off white wall that had a generic painting of some soft pastel impressionist scene a few feet from them. Dean went silent the moment Sam’s hands pressed against his chest, slid over his ribs, settled on his hips.

“God, Dean, you need to relax.”

He hated the way a sneer looked on Dean’s lips, they were better than that.

“Oh yeah, and let me guess, you’re going to show me how to relax Sammy?”

Sam’s brow wrinkled as his face folded on itself thinking. Sometimes he thought that he knew Dean better than Dean knew himself but there were times that he felt like Dean was a stranger. Those times were more recent though.

“This doesn’t have to be, it’s just, I mean we can have this and it doesn’t have to be weird right, it doesn’t have to be complicated?”

“Dammit, this is fucked up! You’re my brother!”

Sam didn’t fail to notice that Dean wasn’t pushing back with his body, only with his words, he wasn’t tense and he wasn’t fighting, he was just putting up what resistance he maybe thought he had. Maybe he wanted reassurance, maybe he needed to hear Sam say it.

“Dean..... Dean, I dug up my first corpse at sixteen and when we got back to the motel the first thing I did was vomit after the adrenaline wore off and Dad just passed me a beer. You killed your first werewolf at twenty one and I was staying up late studying for an english test when you got back to the motel and I had to put nineteen stitches in your thigh. Fucked up is kind of just the running theme of our lives.”

His brother’s hips rolled against him a few times, tongue darting out to lick his lips and that, that was how they were supposed to look, calloused fingers tripping up Sam’s arms and under the hem of shirt sleeves.

“Yeah I remember, good times huh.”

“Not as good as right now.”

“How long you been thinking about this?”

Sam couldn’t help the short breathless laugh that skittered off his tongue.

“Fuck, I don’t know, since hormones happened, I think, maybe twelve when I started watching your arms when you drove, or maybe thirteen when I spied on you with Rhonda, or maybe fourteen I started jerking off thinking about you. God, I thought, I just thought it was a teenage thing, you know, I didn’t want to say anything, I figured it would die down eventually but it’s still there.”

Sam couldn’t decipher Dean’s face, it was soft and almost awed, lips parted barely.

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Did you, did you ever think about me, y’know, before, or...”

“To be honest Sammy you were always my baby brother, I wiped the snot off your nose, I tucked you in at night, I taught you how to tie your shoes. Man I never, I didn’t, but then you left and there was nothing, when you, when I got you caught back up in all this, I didn’t recognize you man, you got tall and your smile changed and everything just seemed different, kinda the same under it all, but not really. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“I guess, yeah. I mean, so, do you wanna, we can do this right, this is good?”

“Sure, can’t be the most fucked up thing we’ve ever done can it.”

Sam smiled genuinely at his brother, feeling loose and lax like a weight was gone, he was glad he finally snapped the rubber band, glad to hear Dean talk like that, actually talk to him about something this big. One hand still grounded on a hip he brought his other up to Dean’s face, his hand so big on his brother’s cheek, running the pad of his thumb over the swell of those lips and god Dean was sucking it into his mouth, looking at him with one brow arched up and fuck his stupid sexy brother for being so good at this.

Tilting his head down to replace his thumb with his lips, Sam moved his hand to rest against the nape of Dean’s neck as he felt himself swelling in his jeans, felt Dean getting hard too. His brother’s fingers found their way into his hair, pushing it back from his face and tugging gently. Sam rocked his hips forward as he licked into Dean’s mouth, curling their tongues together, press of lips harsh against teeth but Dean was opening for him, leaning back against the wall, going slack under him.

Sam shifted to push one of his long legs in between Dean’s thighs, propping him up and kinda straddling one of Dean’s jean clad thighs. They both groaned at the increase of friction, hands turning needy and roaming over shoulders, down arms, curving around the dips of spines.

He knew he wasn’t going to make it far but Sam had too many wet dreams and shower fantasies to let their first contact end with coming in their jeans. He wanted to touch his brother, wanted to know how hot his dick ran and how soft the skin slid over it’s shaft and if it would jerk in his hand. Frantically reaching between their bucking hips as they rubbed against each other he unbuttoned first Dean’s pants and then his own, his clumsy fingers being joined with another set as jeans and boxers were pushed down hips. Moving in between Dean’s legs, his broad hands circling round a thick waist and god his brother was shorter but stocky, Sam cupped his ass and pulled him up pinning him against the wall with the press of his dense body.

Dean’s kissing was softer than Sam might have thought, all gentle finesse and skilled rolls of the tongue, one hand still caught in his hair and the other wrapping around his cock. Sam’s groans were lost between their lips and he could feel Dean’s rumbling against him too. He wanted to taste Dean’s skin, lick his neck, bite his shoulder, but Sam couldn’t seem to pull away from his mouth, from the intimate heat, sucking down his brother’s breath like it was sweeter than any country air.

Both their cocks were wrapped up in one of Dean’s hands, fingers unable to touch around the girth but his palm was warm and firm, and Sam just covered it with his own, sliding in tandem along sweat slick skin and tangling their fingers together. He came thrusting up against his brother’s cock in the hold of both their hands, mouth wide open against Dean’s own lax lips and eyes fixated on a pair of green watching him back.

They stayed like that a minute, coming down, hands sticky and breath panting, leaning against one another and silent. Dean’s lips were quirked up slightly, his face looking younger than Sam had seen in a long time although really he just looked his age.

“You uh, you wanna take the first shower?”

“Yeah, thanks Sam. I mean, really, I uh...... yeah.”

Sam backed up, letting Dean slip away from between him and the wall, clutching pants still open so they wouldn’t fall down and disappearing into the small bathroom. Sam decided he was too tired for a shower and just wiped himself down, stripping to boxers – the clean pair he had found, and getting in to bed. Normally he slept on the side of the bed that was closest to the other, they both did, but this time he settled on the side farthest, and left the corner of the blanket upturned on the other side.

When Dean came out of the shower, naked, rummaging through a duffel for his own boxers, he eyed Sam and the invitation left unspoken. Sam curled on his side and let his brother make up his own mind. He blinked sleepily, sated and content, when the bed dipped and Dean lay next to him, facing him.

“Turn over bitch.”

“Nuh uh, you’re totally the small spoon, I’m taller. Jerk.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m pulling rank.”

Sam swatted his brother on the shoulder, received a light punch to his arm, and decided to concede the match. Rolling over and scooting back, Sam shifted himself into a soft bend so Dean could tuck his legs behind Sam, sling an arm over his hip. But, as predicted, Dean’s head only came up to about his shoulders. Didn’t seem to matter. He felt a barely there kiss at the top of his spine as Dean pressed his forehead to the space in between Sam’s shoulder blades, breath ghosting over his back, evening out slowly, slowly, as they fell asleep.


End file.
